Dead Line Interlude Fragility
by meganekko-bomb
Summary: Read up to chapter Nine of Dead Line first! Alphonse reflects on the inescapable fragility of his brother, while caring for him in the hospital. RoyEd, brotherly love.


**Dead Line Interlude- Fragility**

**October 3, 1917**

Takes place after Chapter Nine- Autumn, and starts before Chapter Ten- Butterflies.

For Arandah

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Alphonse PoV_

Today is October third, the day we burned our house down, that was six years ago. And my brother isn't any healthier. Mentally or physically.

He is in the hospital again. This time kidnapped and tortured, saved by Colonel Roy Mustang, his secret love. Tonight was the first time I've ever seen such a strong link between them, I couldn't sense anything but sorrow and love from the Colonel as he cried and apologized to Edward. I've never seen my brother act so compassionate to anyone before, not even to Winry. He must really, really love the Colonel.

Colonel Mustang is sleeping across the room, by the window, where a small cot is stretched out. His feet are hanging off the end of it as he's sleeping, out cold. He didn't even notice when I moved him away from Edward's bedside; I'm not surprised, he looks exhausted.

Edward is attached to several tubes and machines, all of them monitoring his weakened body, registering each jump that could threaten his life. A few hours ago, after I had put the Colonel to bed, the Dr. Thomas, came in with a nurse, her name tag read Lyons. They removed the intubation unit, I think that's what they called it, and replaced it with a softer mask that covered Edward's mouth and nose. He'll be more comfortable, they said.

He's still broken. I'm watching him as he's asleep, praying that he is free of dreams. I hope it doesn't happen this year, his nightmare. This will be the sixth time I've witnessed it, barely able to imagine what he must have seen.

I don't remember any of what happened. I saw him, already bleeding, reaching for me. It was strange, I wasn't bleeding at all. I saw it gush from his leg, splattering all over the floor, messing up his array.

Why is it that he always seems to bleed when not a single drop of mine is spilled? Is this how he has to pay for my body? His life slowly stripped away, because mine is null? This isn't his fault. But he, and some karmic god of fate seem to be unswervingly convinced it is.

I don't want him to suffer. I always did my best to keep him safe, my armour the shield to his still broken human body. Sometimes I think that we would not have survived if I were human. Edward has been so close to death so many times. I haven't faced it yet. Well, maybe I have, but I don't remember.

All there was in the gate was darkness, I wasn't sure if it was Death, sleep, or some other stasis of consciousness. I heard Edward's screams, that's what made me think I wasn't dead. Edward wouldn't die, he was too strong, so I must be alive.

I hovered in the gate for what seemed like eternity, before I saw my brother again. Those black creatures were grabbing at him, ripping bits of him away. Several of them latched onto his arm, pulling it from his body from him with a sickening tearing sound. He screamed my name, so loud.

The darkness vanished, replaced by the feeble light of our father's study. I examined my new invincible body, utterly convinced I should be in some kind of pain. After all, my body had been ripped apart just as Edward's had. I brought my hand up to my eyes, looking at it in terrified wonder. A glimmer of gold caught my attention past my hand, I focused on it, unused to my new body.

Edward was practically swimming in a sea of blood, clutching his arm, neglecting to staunch the flow from his left leg. He apologized, again and again, for what he'd done. I picked him up, placing my newly gloved hand over his leg, hoping to halt some of the steady flow.

"It's all my fault. Al, I'm so sorry." After he said this, he collapsed in my arms, blood loss overtaking his tiny body. He was like a crystal figurine, cracking at vital points and threatening to shatter before my eyes.

His face was a grimace of pain, much like the form it set now. He twitched in his sleep, mumbling incoherently.

_Here it comes..._

Edward thrashed on his bed, throwing the bedclothes away from himself and revealing the extensive amounts of bandages all over his body. I rushed to his aid, exactly like I had that night six years ago. He was attempting to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress as he walked in some unknown place in his nightmare. I lifted his feet back into the bed, easing him back into his horizontal position.

"Al, please, I'm sorry, come back, come back!" Edward cried quietly, tears forming like droplets of glass on the tips of his eyelashes.

"Ssh, brother... It's okay, I forgive you." I mumbled quietly, wary of the other sleeper in the room.

"No, it's not. You're, you're... I'm sorry! I-" He went silent, something new. Usually he would talk until he woke himself up, or until he fell out of bed. No amount of persuasion from me could prompt him to cease his nightmares.

"G-get away from me! Don't... don't!" Tears poured from his unbandaged eye, copious and wet.

I stood, confused for a moment before recalling why we were in the hospital in the first place. He was dreaming of the kidnappers, what they had done to him. Tentatively, I reached forward, catching some of the tears on my fingers. Absent-mindedly, I wiped them over the metal below my eyes, for a moment pretending I could cry with him. They ran down the cold metal of my face, dripping off the harsh corners of my chin down into the depths of my armour somewhere. That's what I missed the most, crying in support with Edward, another person to carry his sorrows with him. Ever since I was trapped in here by him, I haven't felt as connected somehow, like I am still perched in the uncertainty of life and death. Like he is now.

He clenched his teeth together, every muscle in his body tensing up. I briefly wished for a human body, something I could hold him in without freezing him. My metal body doesn't exactly lend itself to comforting him.

I placed my hand on his forehead, the hollow glove working to the contours of his face. "Edward, Ed. Ssh, ssh. You're okay."

"It hurts." he whimpered, "It hurts so much."

"I know, but you're strong. You always overcome it when you're in pain, right?"

"Make it stop... please, I can't take it."

I massaged the side of his head that was free from wounds and dressings, caressing his hair, the one thing I could do that I knew soothed him more than anything. I smile inwardly, remembering how I used to stroke his hair, even when it was short, every time he had a nightmare. I wondered if the Colonel had figured that out, he seemed very good at calming Edward down.

He relaxed slightly, a huge comfort to me.

"NO!" he shouted abruptly, knocking my hand away as he sat bolt upright, yanking on most of the devices he was attached to. The Colonel mumbled in his sleep, rolling over on the narrow cot.

"Please don't take them away, I need them!"

Edward looked like a morbid doll, his head resting on his shoulder as he swayed in his sitting position.

"I love him! Don't take him away from me!"

It occurred to me at this point there was now another 'him' he could be referring to. I glanced at the Colonel's semi-snoring shape through the darkness, hoping he didn't wake up to see my brother like this. Edward would be so embarrassed. He gets embarrassed and ashamed of himself whenever he realises he made me worry about him. Mind you, if he knew how much I worried for him, he would be in a constant state of embarrassment.

"Al, Roy... I'm sorry. I love you."

"I love you too, brother."

"I love you too, hon." Roy slurred, tilting his head back on the pillow and snoring loudly.

Edward made a few indistinct noises, gradually leaning towards the other side of the bed. He nearly pitched off of it before I caught him, holding him up against the cold metal of my arm.

"We both love you, Edward. Go... go to sleep."

He sighed, his body going limp at last, his head lolling into my elbow joint.

Carefully, I laid him back down, reaching for the blankets he had thrown off earlier. They were thick and warm, I could tell by looking at he cloth. I tucked him in, smoothing his bright golden hair.

He was so fragile, I touched him as gently as I could, terrified he would break more. It was strange, he always acted so strong, but I knew, the Colonel and I knew, he was so scared, his fragility unmatched by any of his other traits.

Edward is a shattered glass doll. He is beautiful to look at, even in his broken pieces. Someone has tried desperately to put him back together; there are bits of hopeless glue stuck to his seams. A light will shine on him, love making him glow briefly, before fading back into a dull lifeless shell of his former beauty. He is carved from a bright golden kind of glass, translucent enough to see through, even though he tries to be opaque. I've kept all the pieces, even the tiniest fragments of the shattered glass, in hopes I will find a way to fuse them together permanently.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Written for my little sister's birthday, September 29, 2007.

Standard drill. Review for pie and cookies!

Love and kisses,

meganekko


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